"Dusty the Church Dog and other sightings of the gospel" is now available in paperback and Kindle form at Amazon. This is a collection of various Occasional Sightings of the Gospel written over the last 7-8 years. If you would like a personalized copy, please send me an email, and we will work out the details. I hope folks like the book.

Monday, December 24, 2007

when they wenthome that night,did they hopethe anthem wouldbe filed awayuntil three years from now,or did the tune and wordskeep running through their headsthat they couldn't fall asleep?

when they wentback to workthat night,did they grumbleabout the long hours,the harsh nights,the low pay with no benefits,or did they discoverthey were now herdersof hope and grace,a thankless jobno one else would take?

when they snuckout of Bethlehem,keeping their faces hoodedfrom the searching eyesof the soldiers,did they forget about the star,or was its reflectionso strong in their eyesthat it seemedit was noontime?

when she snuggledthe infant to her breastas he smuggled themthrough the back alleysto the forgotten road to Egypt,did they wonderif they would everget back homeor was the promiseso ingrained in their soulsthat they knew Godwould hear them crying outfor release?

when we go homethis morning,today, tonight,from the vigilat the stable,will we . . .

Other than Chuck and Sarah themselves (and, of course, all the grandparents, aunts and uncles in waiting), no one was more concerned about the birth of Evan than Teddy. Calling once or twice(or seven!) times a day, he just couldn't contain himself waiting for this birth.

Well, it finally happened.

Last Saturday, December 15th, Sarah and Chuck headed down to the hospital, early that morning. After calling family, they called and left a message on my cell phone to let us know what was happening and about to happen. Bonnie and I were very excited, nad wondered if we should call Teddy to let him know. But we thought he should hear it directly from Chuck and Sarah, so we waited.

We shouldn't have worried. More than an hour (!) before calling my cell phone, Chuck had called Teddy's, to alert him to what was going on. Imagine that, calling the son before calling the father, calling the preacher's kid before calling the preacher, calling someone who doesn't rate very high on the world's "importance" scale, before calling all the important people (like me!)

Sounds familiar, doesn't it? Sounds like the story we will be reading tonight or on Christmas Day. That story that begins with a list of all sorts of important people: Augustus, the proclaimed ruler of the most important empire in the world; Quirinius, the important governor of that important part of the world; the bureaucrats and number crunchers who are recording all the names and numbers for the most important head count ever done in human history! Important people are running around doing important tasks, and tripping all over other important people!

And who gets the news about the truly important event in human history? Just a bunch of people who have been hired to do that menial task of watching sheep during the long hours of the night. Just those nameless, faceless folks who go around picking up our trash, and cleaning our curbs, and repairing the power lines which come down in bad weather. Just those people that we don't even notice, who are patrolling the parking lots while we are in shopping, who are ringing up our purchases while we are marking another item off our list, who are cleaning off that table in the restaurant so we can sit down and have a meal.

The most important story ever told begins with that plot twist which will be woven throughout the rest of the tale, that when God thought it important enough to send the Child to save us, the news was first given to those who are shoved to the end of the line, to those who never get a vote in the 'Most Likely to . . .' balloting, to those who don't know where the stable is but won't stop until they find it, to those pushed aside by a world which believes in the survival of the fittest.

So, when you go to the late night Christmas Eve service, don't be disappointed if you get the good news second-hand, from someone who is heading back to work after getting to Bethlehem before you. Don't feel hurt that God first told someone else before God told you that there is a baby waiting for you out back in the barn. Don't get bent out of shape because God decided that the most important people to hear about the birth of their Savior, are the people we deem to be unimportant to us.

Prayer: Open our ears to the songs sung by an off-key choir, to the story told by those we are sure we should not trust, to the promises given so long ago most of us have forgotten them. Open our ears, so we might notice what you are doing in our midst, User of the unimportant.Amen.

I had my list all ready for this morning. With a PhD in Procrastination (dissertation still in the works), I usually end up doing most of my Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. I used to love it that the stores stayed open late that night, but now, I have to hit the road early.

I had my gift choices written down, had marked exactly what stores had which, the best (and least crowded) routes to take. I had a plan. And then I opened my email, and God blew my plan away!

For there, from someone I don't know personally, was Christmas greetings. A sister in Christ down in New Zealand was writing to wish me, and everyone else on that cyber list, as she put it, a "Christmass filled with the Joy of the Christ Child. A Christmass when we take Him into our hearts, and remembering His ministry and teachings, and reach out to each other in Peace and Hope for the years ahead."

It's already Christmas in New Zealand and other parts of the world; it's already Christmas in places I may never visit, but God has; it's already Christmas, and folks have welcomed the Child into their hearts and homes once again, just as I am about to put the finishing touches on my 'planned' Christmas.

It's a good reminder that Christmas has already taken place. I don't need to make any more lists; I don't need to keep rushing around; I can stop worrying about making sure everything is ready for the worship services at the church; I can put my stress down at the entrance to the barn, and go in to be renewed in the presence of the baby.

It's a good reminder that, although Christmas came 2,000 years ago, it is never too late for me to welcome it into my heart, to humble myself as Christ did, to empty myself for others, to develop (and maintain) the same mind as the One who thought it important to think of me.

I wonder if I could 'exercise' my mind in this way in the coming year, by thinking of something to do every day to celebrate the Christ who has come to all of us. Maybe I could start each morning by saying, ' today I will celebrate Christ's birth by ______." Or, before I go to bed, make a note to myself, 'tomorrow I will honor Christ's birth by _______."

It might be something as simple as saying hello to that grumpy neighbor. It might be a commitment to spend a half hour a day tutoring a kid down at the school. It might be (finally) letting go of that anger at God that I have carried around for so long. It might be simply taking time during the day to go back to the stable, to sit down, and say to that little baby, "Okay, what do you want to teach me today?"

Maybe if I did that every day, then by next December 24th, I won't have to leap out of bed, grabbing for my list.

Prayer: You humbled yourself so that we might be lifted into the presence of Glory; you emptied yourself, so we might be filled with grace; you came, so we could no longer find excuses for coming home. Servant born in a stable, come to us this night. Amen.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

A 16-year-old girl who is pregnant. And apparently has no reservations about it, does not mind others knowing about it, and is even willing to let folks know who the father is! Can you imagine?!?

It's true. Jamie Lynn Spears has told the world that she is pregnant. She plays a virgin on TV, but apparently in real life she does not have a similar commitment. Some want to dismiss her, as just another celebrity gone wild in her personal life. Others would just like to put her as faraway from the media as possible, so our kids don't get any ideas. Still more, just shake their heads, and wonder about her poor family.

Reminds us of another young girl (probably about the age of Jamie Lynn), not married but 'involved' with some one; a young girl that people expected to behave in a certain way; a young girl who had to let her family and her boyfriend know that she was expecting.

It was a scandal! An outrage!

What Joseph did, I mean. To stand by Mary and support her. To take the heat from family and friends, to bear all the ridicule of his pals down at the pub, to hear and see all the neighbors talking behind their hands as he walked down the street. To be willing to say, "I love her; I believe her; I trust her; I will be with her through all the days to come."

As we walk to the manger, as we pass by the Jamie Lynns of our world, as we see the young girls from the 3rd world countries who have no voice in the matter but are married and bear children into unbearable poverty, as we notice the young (and older) men who struggle to provide for their families in the midst of so many questions, wouldn't it be a scandal, an outrage, if we simply passed them by, dismissing them from our minds, putting them away in that memory bank that says 'not important'?

Prayer: We pray that we will not scandalize you, God-in-all-the-16-year-olds-of-the-world, by our attitudes toward them. Help us to honor you as we help them; to glorify you as we tell them they are your Beloved; to model your trust in us as we entrust them with our hopes and dreams. Amen.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

One of the reasons I like the comic strip"Red & Rover" (see December 17th devotion)is that it reminds me of another comic called"Calvin and Hobbes." I really miss Calvin,that little boy who, with his stuffed tiger namedHobbes, would go shooting into space, offon a wild safari, or trick his parents wtihamazing feats of daring-do.

In one strip, Calvin tells his father, "so long,Pop, I'm off to check my tiger trap. I riggeda tuna fish sandwich yesterday so I am sureto have a tiger by now!"

"They like tuna fish, huh?"

"Tigers will do anything for a tuna fish sandwich!"

Then we see poor Hobbes, hanging by his foot,eating a tuna fish sandwich, and bemoaning,"We're kind of stupid that way."

We think the goats in this story by Jesus arepretty stupid, don't we? As good little sheep,who always do what Jesus has asked of us,we look at them and wonder, "Hello? Peoplein prison, naked neighbors, sick friends, a starvingchild, a thirsty kid on a hot day. And youcouldn't do anything for them, much less seethem?"

And we proudly pat ourselves on the back,because we are willing to send the clothes wehave outgrown (or are no longer in fashion)off to the thrift store; we drop a few coins intothe kettle for the army to feed the hungry onChristmas Day; we'll sign the petition to endthe suffering in Darfur; we'll pray for those inprison (and hope not a lot of them are releasedin our neighborhood).

But Jesus catches us up short, when he makesclear that we don't get it any more than thegoats do. Here in this story, the sheep arejust as stupid as the goats because, accordingto Jesus, the sheep didn't realize what theywere doing.

Interesting twist, isn't it? Maybe what Jesusis talking about here is not so much organizinga prison ministry (though he would supportthat effort 100%), but being there when afriend who is addicted to gambling, drugs,alcohol, whatever tries to find freedom.Maybe it is not so much bagging up ourclothes, and putting them out for collectionby the trucks operated by the vets, butstanding by our classmate who is strippednaked by the jokes and ridicules of his peers.Maybe it's not just buying an extra can ofcorn at the grocery store for the foodcollection at the church, but trying to fillthe hunger for friendship that new familyin the neighborhood has.

Maybe instead of thinking, and planning,and making sure others notice all thegood things we do (and congratulatingour selves for such a 'witness), it is feedingon the words Jesus speaks, it is drinking atthe fountain of compassion he offers, it iswalking beside him as he goes into thoseprisons called depression, loneliness, grief,hopelessness. Maybe it is letting Jesus becomefirst and foremost in our lives, that doing allthese things become second nature for us,so that we do them without even thinkingabout it.

Then we can admit, as we continue down thepath to Bethlehem to welcome the Babeinto our hearts, 'we're kind of stupid that way."

Prayer: Wisdom we long for: teach us yourways until we can walk, talk, do, and bewithout a second thought. Amen.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Don't you just love some of the commercialsshown on television these days? Especiallythe ones by the pharmaceutical companies,that want to pitch you something that is sowonderful (and usually so expensive) youshould immediately call your doctor anddemand a prescription.

Of course, to fulfill certain requirementsabout truthful advertising, they add thedisclaimer at the end. Much like the fabled'small print' in a document, the disclaimeris usually spoken so softly and quickly onecannot understand it. Typically, it is somethingalong the lines of 'this medication may causeminor reactions like heartburn, upset stomach,aches and pains, yada, yada, yada.' Theyeven mention severe reactions; one this morningsaid, 'in some rare cases, death has occurred.'Huh?!? I want to feel better, not die.

Makes you wonder what might happen ifsuch disclaimers had to be provided on thatfirst Christmas. "Peace on earth, good willto all people." Disclaimer: believing thismessage may cause certain side effects likeloving your enemies, turning the other cheek,going the extra mile. In a few isolated cases,wars may come to an end."

"Do not be afraid; I bring you good newsof great joy." Warning: taking this joy moreoften than prescribed may lead to outburstsof song, a strong desire to spend time withpeople (even some you don't like), and somechanges in your eyesight which allow youto see sunrises, sunsets, and leaves changingin the fall with new eyes.

Of course, God put on all those disclaimers,all those warnings, all that fine print long beforethe birth of Jesus. In the words of the prophets,we are told over and over of the one who wouldcome, to completely overturn our world, to setright all the wrong we have done, to bring newlife to those who are dying. Jesus came, notto be some cute, ceramic figurine in a crechewe bring out from the basement or attic oncea year. Jesus came, simply because he wasthe only medicine that can make us better.

So be careful. Walking the path to Bethlehemmay send you home a different way - throughthe alleys of all those places of poverty andbrokenness you have learned to avoid.Listening to Jesus may cause you to speak ina more caring and loving way to others.Following him into the streets of the kingdom,may cause painful foot problems. Takingup your cross and following him, may giveyou callouses. In some extreme cases,hearts have been transplanted as certainindividuals have radically altered theirlifestyle.

Prayer: None of us like to take medicine,Physician of our souls, but all of us can feelbetter, do better, be better if we just tookJesus on a daily basis. Amen.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

It's "the" word of the year for 2007, according to the folks at Merriam-Webster Inc., who determine such things on behalf of the rest of us.

It reflects the increasing cross-pollination of words and numerals in today's means of communicating - either because of typos on a keyboard, or the sorts of short cuts text messengers are looking for. According to some, it came from the folks who loved to play the game 'Dungeons and Dragons', who would often exclaim, "Wow! Loot!" w00t!!!

But it has come to be used in a variety of ways: a cry of triumph ('i w00ted them'); an exuberant expression ('w00t! he said yes!'); a cry of joy about an accomplishment ('i passed the test. w00t!!!'). it is being used by more and more folks, in more and more settings. So . . .

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

On this day, I'll be trying to get a few more things marked off "The List." I got one of Teddy's presents yesterday, discovered another one we hope to get him; I finally got our tree (of course, it is not up yet!); I have three different meetings; and I am trying to get three different bulletins into some sort of shape.

On this day, the Muslims in our community (and around the world) will be marking the end of the pilgrimage (the hajj) to Mecca, with prayers, reflection, and the celebration of their faith. For today is Eid al-Adha, the "feast of sacrifice," the major holy day of the Muslim faith. So today, Muslims will hold prayers, as well as community dinners.

Eid celebrates the story of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his only son, when commanded by God. Considered a prophet in the Muslim faith, Abraham is a main figure in Judaism and Christianity, as well. Indeed, these three major religions, which often are at odds with one another, are united in their belief of the central role Abraham plays in the faith development of all three.

While we Christians, and the Jews, tell the story in such a way that Abraham is willing to sacrifice his son, Isaac, the Muslim tradition believe the boy was his son, Ishmael. But however we tell the story, the emphasis is on the willingness to be obedient to God's call on one's life, even if asked to give up what might be most precious to us. Certainly one of the 'themes' of our Christmas story is God's willingness to give the divine Child, the One so precious to God.

One of the ways Muslims observe this day honoring Abraham's sacrifice is to donate food, to the poor. Some of the Muslim families here in Cincinnati will be helping to feed folks in one of the chronic poverty neighborhoods; others will send assistance to families in Bosnia, Iraq, and other communities throughout the world.

On this day, I am reminded by my Muslim siblings in our mutual faith in the one God, that part of my way of celebrating this season needs to be acts of sacrifice. Not just giving up some time to go caroling, but giving up time to work in a soup kitchen; not just giving up hard earned money for gifts, but giving so that others might be blessed; not just filling myself with all those good things I enjoy, but sharing from the abundance I have so the emptiness of others might be filled.

On this day, we may walk different paths as we seek to find God, but Zechariah tells us that one day, one day (!), we will invite each other to come and celebrate with us the gifts of peace, hope, joy and reconciliation.

Prayer: On this day, and the days to come, help us to celebrate the sacrifice you have made, Glory's Gift, so that we may indeed give more and more of ourselves away to your people and your creation. Amen.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

If there is anyone who has lived out the opening verses of this psalm, it may be Charles Wesley. Born 300 years ago today (December 18, 1707), Wesley has passed on a legacy of countless hymns that have taught generations theological truths, mixed with powerful images from the Bible, as well as literary illusions from his time, and classical illusions, as well.

What would Advent be without Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus or Lo! He comes with clouds descending? Or, what would a Christmas Eve (or Day) service be without singing Hark!The Herald Angels Sing?

One of the great powers these songs have is they help us to focus on the Advent theme of Jesus' coming again. In our rush to get to the manger to throw a big party for the baby, we often forget that there was a promise born that day in that barn, a promise that was sealed at the cross, and will be fulfilled with the return of our Lord.

Sadly (IMHO), in the reworking of some of Wesley's lyrics, to be more inclusive as well as use more familiar words, we have lost the understanding (so true to the gospel) he had of all creation responding to the birth of Jesus, and the biblical truth that all creation will be healed, restored, given new life by the One born on Christmas Day.

Wesley's original opening two verses for Hark! the herald angels sing show this:Hark, how all the welkin ring!'Glory to the King of Kings,Peace on earth and mercy mild,God and sinners reconciled.

Joyful, all ye nations rise,Join the triumph of the skies;Universal nature say'Christ the Lord is born today!

Such words echo the praise of the psalmist who hopes in the one who made 'heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them.'

Wesley's hymns help us to keep our feet on solid ground, gospel ground, as we continue to walk to Bethlehem. So keep praising the Lord by singing those marvelous gifts Wesley has graced to us!

Prayer: Even as we get ready to celebrate your birth once again, come to us, Joy of our longing hearts. Come, so we may see you robed in compassion; come, so we may see you handing out gifts of justice and freedom to the oppressed; come, so we may feel your warm welcome, even as you embrace those we have ignored. Come, Lord Jesus, Come! Amen.

Monday, December 17, 2007

One of the things I try to do every morning before I head off to work is to read the comics in the newspaper. Over the last year or so, I have become a big fan of a strip by Brian Bassett called "Red & Rover." Red is a little boy, aged 8 or 9, I would guess. Rover is his dog, his confidant, his therapist, his pillow while he watches TV. Though Rover looks in the strip like a yellow lab, I pretend that he is a Golden Retriever like Dusty.

Today, Red and Rover are standing out in the snow, looking up at the sky. Red says, "They say snow is actually God brushing dandruff out of his hair." In one of those 'balloon' things, Rover asks, "Who're they?" To which Red answers, "Theologian dermatologists." What a line. What enjoyment. What a way to start a day!

A cartoon strip that just puts us in the right mood. A child standing on the corner waiting for the bus, pretending she is the first woman starting pitcher in the major leagues, as she throws strike after strike at the tree with her snowballs. A father who goes out into the cold night to make sure that his child has a gift for the teacher, since the child just remembered today (!) that the party is tomorrow. The neighbor who goes from house to house with her snow blower, clearing sidewalks and driveways, and walks on singing a carol.

Every day blessings from the One the psalmist tells us we are to bless every day. As we walk those ordinary paths that are part of the journey to Bethlehem, let us keep an eye out for a boy and his dog, a caring neighbor, a child dreaming.

Prayer: If we are not careful, if we don't watch, Shaper of our days, we might miss all those everyday wonders you put in our paths. And then, we might think we have no reason to offer our blessings to you. Keep us watchful, keep us alert, keep us praying. Amen.

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Every once in a while, the lectionary folks throw us a wild pitch, having us read stories that we don't usually connect with the Christmas story, or season. The gospel reading for the 3rd Sunday of Advent in Year A is one such reading.

(Read Matthew 11:2-11)

This sounds like one of those all too human, all too familiar stories from the gospels of someone who questions Jesus' identity or authority. Only this time it is not a scribe, a Pharisee, a lawyer, or some other religion leader. Nope, it is one of Jesus' kin, his cousin, John the Baptist. He's sitting in prison, wondering what is going to happen to him next (and having a pretty good idea what will take place), and he's been hearing rumors and stories about what Jesus is doing. So he sends some of his disciples to ask, 'are you the real deal?' Or are we going to have to put our hopes on hold again?'

Can you hear just the hint of disappointment in what John is asking? Maybe he and Jesus used to play that childhood game of 'Romans and peasants' with the peasants always winning. Maybe when they were teenagers, they talked about the kind of world they would bring about when they became adults. Who knows. But doesn't it make you wonder what John was looking for in Jesus? A man on fire, a man of fire? Did he hope Jesus would lead a army to break him out of prison, who would knock Herod off the throne, and who, after becoming king, would name hisfavorite cousin as prime minister?

Whatever the reason, Jesus is just not doing what John expected of him. Yes, Jesus is going about the countryside doing things, but they seem to be the wrong things. He's not putting an army together, he's bringing tax collectors and prostitutes to the family table. He's not a mighty warrior like David, he's sitting around telling stories. He's not plotting to overthrow the oppressors from Rome, Jesus is giving sermons about turning the other cheek, and going the extra mile. In fact, his response to John's question is simple, 'go and tell cuz that I am the one who was to come; but the job description has been changed just a bit. The blind see their way home, the lame dance down the street, new life is given to those the world has thrown out with the garbage, and mercy comes before judgment.'

And we can just see John sitting in that cell when the answer comes back to him, thinking, 'where in the world did Jesus get all those crazy ideas?' Then, in the silence and darkness of those moments, he begins to hear words from Isaiah, and Amos, and Hosea. Words about God's vengeance turning out to be salvation; words about one who is coming to bring exiles home; words about the time when all creation will be healed; songs about the poor being filled with all sorts of good things; visions about Death Valley becoming Napa Valley; about a young woman in a wheelchair who plays Eliza Doolittle in 'My Fair Lady.'

And in the hearing of those words, and the recalling of those visions, those hopes, those dreams of God, John comes to realize, just as we must if we are going to walk to Bethlehem this year, that the way may just require going in an unexpected direction.

Prayer: Long before the poet put the words down on paper, Surpriser of our souls, you knew that we would come to a fork in the road. Help us to be able to choose the unexpected way, the way that leads us into your kingdom. Amen.

Several people wanted to know about this pousitiniathing mentioned in yesterday's devotional. Well, firstI have to admit to a misspelling - it should have been'poustinia.' Sorry about that!

A poustinia is a prayer room/hut, a place where onecan go to be truly isolated, truly alone, truly silentin the presence of God. Think of what we wouldcall a hermitage - one of those beehives the monksused in the British Isles, the place Thomas Mertonlived in at the Abbey of Gethsemane, a remote huton a Pacific atoll, or on the side of a mountain.

Poustinia is a common, ordinary word. In fact, inits original Russian, it means 'desert'. The SaharaDesert thus becomes Saharskaya Poustinia' - ageographical location. But in the sense it was beingused in the devotional, it refers to a spiritual place,a place set apart for silence, solitude, reading, andprayer, so that one may draw closer to God.

I had read of poustinias for years, and when I wenton by sabbath renewal time some years ago, I actuallygot to spend time in one. When I visited the residentialsetting (Hetton Hall) of the Northumbria Communityin England, I discovered a marvelous poustinia on thegrounds, complete with a thatched roof! You go in,shut the door, light a candle if light is needed, andjust sit, meditate, pray, rest in silence, and gradually,softly, lovingly you become enveloped in the sacredshawl of God. And like the abbey on Iona, thehermitage of Thomas Merton, the Church of theReconciliation at Taize, Sainte Chappelle in Paris,I had been enjoying a marvelous pilgrimage topoustinias throughout the world.

So, when I got home I was determined thatI would recreate this place, this experience. I wasgoing to convert the storage shed in my backyardto a poustinia. I was going to talk the church intoconverting one of its meeting rooms into a prayer roomOf course, the shed still contains the snow shovels,the old bikes, the left-overs of yard work, etc. thatit did when I came back home. We still continueto sit in chairs around tables in that room at thechurch. I continue to long for a return to all thoseplaces where I felt so close to God.

That's when I need to hear from someone likeHaggai. Someone who gently taps me on theshoulder and whispers, 'stop fretting. God'sSpirit is living deep within you. Through Jesus,God planted the seed of the Spirit to createthat longing to be with God, to rest in silence,to be still and know. Stop looking, stopfretting, just stop and rest.'

And then I know the poustinia I really needis there in my heart, where God has beenwaiting, is waiting even now, and will bewaiting when I am finished typing these words,simply waiting for me to stop and enter intomy poustinia.

As we walk the road to Bethlehem in thisAdvent season, let's keep our eyes open forthose places of rest, those poustinias, Godhas placed along the way, and in our hearts.

Prayer: Now, I will stop fretting. Now, Iwill shut down the computer, turn off thevacuum, set down the paper, and wanderinto my heart where you are waiting to beat rest with me, Hermitage of my soul. Amen.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Admit it. You had to look at the table ofcontents in the front of your Bible to findwhere Haggai was located, didn't you?(So did I!). Since we normally don't readanything from him in church (a passagefrom Haggai appears only once in theentire 3-year cycle of the lectionary), itis easy to overlook him.

And it seems like he doesn't have muchrelevance for us, doesn't it? After all,historically he only 'preached' for abouta three-and-a-half month period of time,and only seemed to be concerned aboutgetting God's people up off their duffsand started on rebuilding the temple inJerusalem after the return from exile.So, his words have nothing to do with us.

But since Haggai has the word 'prophet'in front of his name, we are called to takehim seriously. And because prophets arereally conduits for God's words, God'sconcerns, God's hopes, God's dreamsfor God's people, we really do need topay attention. And because, in thewisdom of the church, Haggai is a partof Scripture, we should read and listento what he has to say.

In a nutshell, Haggai is all about thepractical tasks we are given as God'speople. Yes, we are called to pray,but we are also called to provide andmaintain those places where peoplecan go to pray. Be they monasteries,sanctuaries, pousitinias, prayer rooms,little roadside chapels, benches outin a field - we can see that folks haveplaces where they can withdraw fromthe world, where they can enter intosilence, where they can reconnect withGod.

Yes, we are called to provide a home forGod. Not so much for God, but for us -to have that special place, set apart simplyfor the purpose of letting us connect withthe extraordinary God who continues tosurprise us, in the midst of our ratherordinary days and lives. From tabernaclesin the wilderness to the tabernacle inSalt Lake City, from cathedrals thatecho with the chants of the saints tostorefront churches that shake withgospel songs, from the catacombs tothe church on the corner where we werebaptized and confirmed, we have thesespecial places that ground us in the faithand in the presence of God, even whenthe earth seems to be shifting under ourfeet from day to day.

As we continue on our journey to Bethlehem,let's be sure to take a break and pray at allthose places Haggai and Hannah, Phoebeand Paul provide for us along the way, andmake sure they are places where others canfind rest and reconnection with God ontheir journey.

Prayer: We think all we need is a good pairof boots and a stout walking stick to makeit all the way to the manger, Rebuilder ofour hearts, but you offer us a place to stop,to reflect, to become grounded once againwith your holy presence. Help us to bewilling to take a break, so we can berefreshed by your love. Amen.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Every day (well actually, several times a day!) Teddy calls. And, every day, he wants to know the same thing: has Sarah had her baby yet? Sarah is a young woman in the church, just a couple of years older than Teddy, who grew up with him - accepting him, loving him, seeing him as one of God's children just as she is. So, she is very special to him. And the fact that she married a fellow who spent some time as one of Teddy's caregivers in one of those times when he could live at home, makes it doubly special for Teddy (and for us).

And every day (actually, several times a day!) I have to tell him that, no, I haven't heard anything yet and reassure him that as soon as I hear, he will share in the good news. But it is hard on him, all this waiting to hear about his friends and their baby.

If anything, this is the season when we get repeated lessons on waiting. Waiting in line to make a purchase, to get a tree, to mail a package. Waiting for the email from the relatives letting us know when they plan to arrive. Waiting for the delivery truck to arrive (hopefully, NOT at a time when the kids are at home). Waiting to sing those beloved carols; waiting to gather in the quiet of the night on Christmas Eve to once more hear the Story.

And none of us, none of us, none of us are any good at waiting, are we? We're too busy, we're too frantic, we're too worried, we're too important to have to wait, to be put on hold, to have someone tell us, 'sorry, not today; maybe that toy/game/video/whatever will be on the shelves tomorrow.

It's not just a virtue we need to develop, it's not just a skill we learn, waiting is a spiritual discipline, which none of us are very disciplined at practicing!

Now, I can't begin to imagine what it was like for Mary to have to take that long, dusty, probably painful journey to Bethlehem. I can't begin to know what it is like for Sarah, and Chuck, to continue to wait - day after day - for little Evan to make his appearance.

But because I know Sarah, and Chuck, I have no doubt that as they walk the road to parenthood during this season, like Mary and the psalmist, they say,'For God alone my soul waitsin silence,for our hope is from God.'

Prayer: We hurry up and wait, often for things that have no lasting value. But you are worth waiting for, Deliverance of our hearts, so help us to be calm, to be silent, to be hopeful in this waiting time. Amen.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Ever notice how the prophets are never included in Christmas pageants? Oh, there might be a quote or two from Isaiah, but no one plays Amos, or Hosea, or any of the other folks who seem to take glee from holding our feet to the fire built from God's incendiary words.

It's not surprising. Who wants to spend any time with someone who is going to remind us - in this season of gifting and receiving, of parties and feasting - that there are those who, exploited by the world, keep down the costs of our gifts, our food, our travels? Who wants to invite a party-pooper like Amos to our Christmas dinner, if he is going to show up wearing sackcloth and a gloomy face?

We'd rather be with Jesus during this holy season. Jesus, sweet little baby boy; Jesus, meek and mild; Jesus, soft, cuddly, and who can be put down for a nap when the party really begins to crank up. After all, he is just this baby who depends on us for food, for warmth, for comfort. He may be the reason for the season, but we are the reasonable adults in charge of the season,aren't we?

Unfortunately, when Jesus grows up, it becomes pretty clear that he has been spending time with folks like Amos, more time than is probably good for anyone. That's where he gets such outrageous ideas that people want to put on religion like a pair of pants, trying on different sizes until they find what fits their lifestyle. That's why he can see the kind of hypocrisy evidenced by those who talk a good game of faith, but are usually still sitting on the bench when the whistle blows. That's how he came to realize that in God's great scheme, things are usually turned upside down, until we get it right.

If we are going to go down the road to Bethlehem, we do indeed need to spend some time with Jesus. But, if we are going to reach the end of our journey, we need to keep Amos and all the other prophets at our side, so we know exactly how we are to live when we get there.

Prayer: With words we really don't want to hear, with jabs of justice we really do need, you send the prophets to us, Teacher of our souls. As much as we would like to leave them behind, help us to take their hands as they journey with us to Bethlehem. Amen.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

No tricks, no hidden meanings, no theological puzzles which take centuries to unravel. Just two short verses, two commandments, two easy steps to follow through life. If only it were that easy!

It would be easy to love God, if God would answer every prayer, would turn a blind eye to some of the things we do, would be that jolly old fellow with a belly-deep laugh and a twinkle in his eye. But God has a funny way of thinking that we should be involved in solving prayers, that everything we do (good and bad) is part of our life-long struggle with faith, that God might just not slide easily into some picture frame we have designed out of our needs.

It would be easy to love our neighbors if they would just be a little bit more loveable. Think what it would be like to have Mother Theresa living next door, instead of the curmudgeon who grumbles every time kids play in their backyards. Or what if Brad Pitt moved onto ourstreet with his commitment and zeal to shaping a greener world, but we get saddled with the fellow who runs his sprinklers 12 hours a day in the hottest and driest part of the summer.

And it would be a whole lot easier to love ourselves if we were just someone else, wouldn't it!?!

Two short verses, two simple commandments, two easy steps on the path of love which we can walk to get to Bethlehem.

If only it were that easy!

When Eugene Peterson paraphrased this passage in The Message, he calls these commandments "pegs." I like that.

Because if we can love God, when we need that grace to forgive ourselves for the foolish words we speak, for the mean ways we can treat people, for the ease with which we slip off the path to the kingdom, we will find it hanging on that peg. And if we can learn to love ourselves as much as God loves us, then when we reach for that kindness, that joy, that peace which we know our neighbors need, we will find them hanging there as well. And if we can, day in and day out, chance after chance, love others as deeply as we love ourselves, than we will know we truly love God, as we walk the path of love..

Prayer: It probably isn't easy at times to love us, Advent's Heart, but you continue to persist in feeling that way and then living out that love in us. Help us to make the less than easy choice to be as loving as you are, towards our neighbors, ourselves, and especially you. Amen.

Monday, December 10, 2007

I can still remember the time when I went in for my annual physical. The doctor was doing the usual poking and prodding, and then he got out the little flashlight to look into my ears. He looked in one, and then the other. He stepped back with a quizzical look on his face, and went through the procedure a second time.

That's when he turned to the medical student who was assisting him, and said, "Take a look." The student took the light, and she looked at both my ears three times! "What is it?" she asked the doctor, with a worried look on her face. "Something we need to flush out," he said with a grim look. So they filled a syringe with warm water, and proceeded to flush out my ears. "No wonder you have some hearing problems," the doc said, "take a look at what we flushed out."

And sure enough, there they were. All those angry, mean-spirited words that people use on talk radio about those they don't like. All those loud commercials that were deafening me with their screaming about what I absolutely had to have, even if I didn't need it. All those profanities flooding the dialogue in movies, adding nothing to the story, but filling my ears, my heart, my soul with garbage. All those muttered-under-my-breath epithets about all those people I just cannot stand.

The psalmist says (40:6) that God doesn't want our sacrifices, but gives us open ears. Or, as the Hebrew more graphically puts it, God gives "ears you have dug for me."

God digs out all that garbage which has stuffed our ears and builds a path to Bethlehem on which we can walk, with our ears wide open, so we can hear the voices of the poor and the needy, so we hear the knock on the door from the young couple looking for a home in our hearts, so we can listen to the anthems the angels sing, so we can pay attention to the cries of the One just born, that we might have new life.

Prayer: You may have to dig a little deeper this year, Mining God, since the noise of the world seems to be so much greater. But by your persistent efforts, we may just be able to hear a little more clearly, and listen to the whisper of your heart in our ears. Amen.

Sunday, December 09, 2007

Every year, I look for him to show up in the manger scene set up in our narthex. And once more, I am disappointed. No ceramic figure dressed in camel's hair holding a handful of honey-covered locusts. Once again, I've scoured all the card shops, but not a single one has a card with John the Baptist on the front, with a message on the inside reading: "Merry Christmas, you brood of vipers!"

Yet, this year as in every year of the lectionary cycle, John the Baptist shows up in the gospel reading. Every year! Why? Why him, of all the people we could read about? Why him, of all the people to show up in church every year?

Maybe he comes on the scene each and every year as a model for what our role should be as followers of Jesus. Simply put, we are to speak to people about the One who has come, and is coming once again to set up house in our hearts. We are simply to trust that the promises made long ago to a prophet, to a pregnant teenager, to a bunch of shepherds will be fulfilled once again this year. We are simply to be filled with the hope that says our words, our actions, our prayers, our simple and ordinary lives are all a part of the story told at Christmas.

Like John, we stand in the midst of folks who can be hypocritical, who can be fairly shallow in their faith, who seem to have trouble putting their faith where their mouths are (in other words, folks just like you and me!). And what are we to do. Simply point.

Point to the one who is coming down the road, whose image we can barely see in the gathering dusk, whose head just appears over the top of the horizon. To point and say, "There! There is your hope; there is your joy; there is your peace; there is your life!"

To point - and then to step off the path so we don't get in the way of the reunion of the lost, the last, the little, the least with the One who knows them by name.

Prayer: If we would walk the way to Bethlehem, Brooding God, we need to stop pointing fingers at those who we believe are not bearing fruit as we think they should, and start pointing to the One who is coming to hear all those crying from the wildernesses of their lives, and to lead them home to life with you. Amen.

Saturday, December 08, 2007

Well, that's not quite how the carol goes, is it? But it seems as if this is how most of society interprets it these days. That the reason for the season is to spend, to consume, to fill our homes and our lives with more and more.

Think I am being too much of a curmudgeon? Think I am being too negative? Think I have become a scrooge? Maybe so. But I look at the ads on TV here, in a time when a economic crisis is brewing in our midst, folks are being told 'maybe this is the time to buy a BMW' . . . a big hunk of jewelry, that chalet you've always dreamed about! It's tempting, isn't it? I admit that, if I had the money, there is that list of things that I would go out and buy, and a classic car is one of those items.

But then I read the Advent scriptures, then I read the Christmas story, and what happens? Amos comes knocking on my door wanting to collect a cup of justice for the people sleeping under the bridges; Gabriel and the angels come whispering to poor folks working the night shift to go look at what God has done for them; Mary comes caroling about the One who comes to fill the hungry with good things and to send me away empty.

The Christmas story is pretty explicit that God came down through (and for) the poor. And that's the part on the story we seem to always overlook. In our costly decorations, in our beautifully staged pageants, in our marketing of the message, we always seem to leave out the poor.

So, maybe it's time we remember them, and the justice we are called to share with them. Maybe, when we go and spend money on a present for a neighbor, we can send the same amount to a local shelter. Maybe, when we buy our Christmas feast, we can provide a feast for another family through a food pantry. Maybe, when we decide to go caroling, we will make sure we sing to the poor in our neighborhoods, not just the privileged. Maybe, just maybe, we can empty ourselves this year.

Because if I become empty then I, too, become poor. I, too, can hear the promises whispered by Gabriel. I, too, can open my heart to the way God wants to be incarnated in my soul. I, too, can be filled with those good things called grace, hope, peace, joy, reconciliation, justice. And then, I can go out and empty myself of these gifts, so I once more become empty enough to welcome God, once again.

The path of justice we are asked to take to Bethlehem is all downhill. How do we keep from putting roadblocks in the way so that justice can roll down to those who need it the most?

Prayer: Not a not a slow drip, not a trickle, not a gently flowing stream, but let your justicerough-tumble through our lives, River of Righteousness, so it can sweep us along to all those places where we can serve and grow with all of your people. Amen.

Friday, December 07, 2007

Today is my day off, and so I face choices. Will I laze around in bed, warm and snug under the blankets, or will I get up, eat breakfast, put the laundry in, walk Dusty? Okay, when it comes to the dog, maybe I don't have a choice . . .

Will I go to a movie this afternoon, read a book, work on a book, take a nap, turn on the TV, turn on the vacuum, do a bit of shopping, surf the 'net, play a video game, call a friend, curse an enemy??? I could even choose NOT to do an Advent devotional today!

So many choices. And you will notice, since it is somewhat intentional, that there is nothing about God, or prayer, or any thing remotely spiritual (well, reading a book is always a spiritual discipline for me - as well as taking a nap!).

That's because, like so many people I know, when I am making lists of things to do, when I am deciding what will fill my time, when I make choices for the day - all too often, God doesn't make the cut.

Why? Why is it that I can choose to spend time with a friend, or not, but can't seem to do that with God? How can I choose to talk with the neighbor down the street, or keep walking Dusty, but not open my mouth to God? It often seems an almost automatic response as to whether or not to love a person, but I cannot seem to send a valentine to the One who gave me life and breath?

Now, in some ways I am a 'professional' Christian - I read the Bible, I pray, I can think deep theological thoughts, for that is my job. But as a pilgrim, as one who is struggling to walk the streets of the kingdom, I know that all too often I choose NOT to make God my chosen portion.

I am not sure if it is so much a matter of making the 'right' choice, but finding that path where I know that God is before me, and I want to run to catch up.

Prayer: In the midst of all the petty and pretentious choices I will make today, path-paving God, help me to make a portion of them with you. Amen.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Take a moment and think of all those nicknames, those affectionate terms, those 'love' names you have for family members or friends. Sweetpea, Nana, GeePaw, Peanut, BeeJay, Punkin are some of the ones I have heard used for people over the years.

Now, think of all those nicknames, those affectionate terms, those 'love' names you use for God. C'mon, you say you love God, so what are the names, the images, the metaphors you have when you talk to or about God?

Could you pray to God as the Shawl of Holiness? Are you able to speak of Jesus as the Champion of the outcast? Would it be appropriate to call the 3rd person of the Trinity a 'sap-surging Spirit'?

Recognizing that our language - especially about God - is limited and limiting, why is it that so often God is only referred to as Father, Son, Holy Spirit; or Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer? Why. when we pray, is it a repetitive use of 'O God'? Where is the rich thesaurus for all the diverse, wonderful, beautiful, creative ways of speaking about the One who did not limit humanity to one mold, or trees to one model, or birds to one color?

The psalmists try to get us started building this rich and varied language. Embedded within the psalms are creative, evocative, emotional, tender words to describe God's presence, God's power, God's grace, God's hope. I still remember, as a young boy who felt alone and lost in a confusing world, the first time I heard about God being the rock where I could find refuge. What power, what liberation, what comfort was given to me in those words! And over the years, I have developed other creative, more contemporary, and (hopefully) more personal-to-me language for God.

As we take the path of words to Bethlehem, may we arrive with new ways of telling of our love for and to God.

Prayer: Cradle of our dreams, hear us as we tell you how much we love you, even if we fumble with the words. Gift us with fresh language, so we might tell others of how precious you are to us, using images that will draw them closer to you in this time in which you draw ever closer to us. Amen.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

I don't know about you, but there are some days when I spend all my time muttering under my breath. Someone has forwarded an urban legend to me that I have seen a gazillion times. That curriculum outfit that just doesn't seem to understand the word 'no' calls again. A neighbor has taken MY parking space on the street. muttermuttermutter

Of course, I am pretty good at grumbling. A committee has to re-visit an issue that was already decided on months ago, even though everyone in the room knows nothing will change with another discussion. Politicians fill the airwaves with enough hot air to reduce my energy bill, if I could only plug my furnace into the TV. And my team did not make it into the big game! grumblegrumblegrumble

And, sad to say, there are those moments when I am downright churlish. "The light has changed, green means go, hello!?!" I have been in the grocery line for 10 minutes, and the lane next to me opens, and the clerk takes those folks who have gotten into line after me! And, of course, the telemarketers who dial a dozen numbers at once, and you are standing there saying, 'hello? hellO? HELLO???' while the caller decides if you are the lucky winner to listen to their spiel. churlchurlchurl

But when I go to bed and reflect back on the day, I always realize that I haven't done much praising, even when I had the chance. A 'v' of honking geese flew over me in the morning, and I was too busy muttering about how cold it was as I stooped down to get the paper, instead of lifting my face to watch them. A neighbor waved 'hello' as she pulled out to work, and I was grumbling about the ice on the windshield. Two squirrels were chasing each other around and around the oak tree outside my office window, and I was ranting at the computer for taking its sweet time to power up.

If I am lucky, maybe when I sweep the snow off the sidewalk before I go to work this morning, I will uncover the path of praise.

Praise God!Praise God for Dusty racing aroundin the snow and making dog angels!Praise God for the sweet, soft silenceof snow that deadens the noisesof the world!Praise God for this time of Advent,so we can find our wayback home to Bethlehem!Praise the LORD!

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Six or seven years ago, when Teddy was living in a residential facility in Kentucky, they took him roller skating. And he took to it like a duck does to water! For someone whom occupational therapists have always said has a balance problem, he can strap on those skates and glide around the floor, even doing all that crossover stuff and keeping in beat with whatever music was being played.

Of course, his passion for skating meant that he wanted Mom and Dad to share in it as well. I thought I would get off the hook, since most rinks don't have skates in my size. Unfortunately, the rink we went to did! Which meant that I had to strap those things on, and get out on the floor. Now, as much as I liked roller skating when I was I kid, it had to have been some 45 years since I had tried it. Yet, as I tentatively took those first steps, as I clung tenuously to the wall, it began to come back. I began to remember how to skate!

Peter tells us that one of the jobs he has been called to do is to help us remember - to refresh our memories of whose we are and what we are called to do in this life. To remember those moments when God whispered in our ears, 'I love you, Beloved.' To remember those times when we have stood on mountaintops, and felt a closeness to God that warms us in those wintry days in the valleys. To remember those people who have pointed the way when we get lost, who pick us up and dust us off when we trip over the untied laces of our sin, who keep patting us on the back and telling us, 'keep going; you can make it.'

As we continue on our journey to Bethlehem, may one of the paths we walk be that of remembering.

Prayer: How can we remember the way to your heart, O God, when our minds are crowded with the jingles, the cash registers ringing, the siren calls of the stores? Tie the string of your Spirit around our fingers, we pray, so our memories might be refreshed as to where we are going and how we long to reach our destination. Amen.

Monday, December 03, 2007

Every parent of a teenager knows about endurance - passing those long moments in the night, waiting to hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, so you can finally go to sleep in peace and assurance that they are home.

Every kid knows about endurance during this time of year, as they struggle to be so good that it hurts, as they slowly 'x' out each day on the calendar leading up to the morning when they no longer have to keep their hands off the presents under the tree.

Every patient knows how to define endurance, as you wait out those days, which seem to last an eternity, from the time a test is taken until you hear back from the lab with the results.

Peter says that endurance is one of the foundational stones which supports our faith. And he certainly knew about that truth, didn't he? Impulsive to a fault, he had to learn that Jesus did indeed know what he was talking about. Graced with that all-too familiar faculty to open his mouth only to change feet, he had to find a way to keep his mouth shut at times, so his ears could be open. Eager to leap before he looked (and it didn't seem to matter what he was jumping into), he had to develop the ability to look down at his feet to make sure they were on the right path.

Endurance is one of those paths God would teach us to walk during this time of Advent. Hopefully, we can find the tenacity to learn.

Prayer: God-who-walks-with-us, you were willing to endure our foolish and willful disobedience, until the right time came to put on our flesh and to teach us your ways. Help us to have that faith that is grounded in endurance, especially in this season when we want to rush to Bethlehem. Amen.

Sunday, December 02, 2007

Dangerous - for we are asked to leave all those comfortable shadows of life and welcome with open arms the Light that comes to us. Dangerous - because we will be challenged to quit ndulging in those life-long habits of quarreling, jealousy, putting down those around us,so we can live in such a way that others will have no doubt about the love, the respect, the gratitude we have for them.

Dangerous - as we are asked (no, begged!) by God to take all those weapons of mass destruction (our sharp tongues, our turned backs, our angry looks) and turn them into whispers of grace, of welcoming hugs, of smiles that light up all creation.

Besides this, we are asked called to let go of all our mapquest and GPS gizmos, and find alternative paths to Bethlehem.

We know how to get to the mall with our eyes closed. Now, we are asked to go down those unfamiliar streets, to risk getting lost (and not worrying about it) as we look for the coming One. We bump our ways over the potholes of popularity, but God wants us to turn down the side alleys of faithful discipleship, looking for those who are sitting on the curb, their pockets full of poverty and their hearts emptied of hope, so we will stop and open our hearts and give them a ride to the kingdom.

That prophet of Advent, Isaiah, tells us that in this season of commercials, sales, and consumer debt, God longs to teach us different ways, to instruct us with a Word that can transform our very lives, to show us the paths of wisdom (and courage) which will lead us straight to Bethlehem.

For some, it will mean walking a path called patience, when we are so much more comfortable giving into the fatigue and stress which allows us to be extra crabby. Others are asked to walk down that path called faith, as neighbors and friends gently laugh at us for believing that old,old story and for daring to let it guide our lives. Still others will find ourselves walking the cracked sidewalks which lead to the corner of Hunger and Hopelessness, where we might be able to change the street names to Grace and Joy.

Once again, we begin our dangerous journey to Bethlehem. Are you ready?

Thursday, November 29, 2007

If you are a romantic at heart; if you loved watching the old Disney movies about Snow White, Cinderella, about Sleeping Beauty, Bambi, Thumper, and all those cute birds/mice/rabbits that help make dreams come true - then you definitely want to go see the movie Enchanted. It is a marvelous mix of animation and live film, of comedy and romance, of 'inside' jokes and throwaway lines that, if you are familiar with those Disney greats, you will find yourself nodding. laughing, saying, "yeah! I know where that came from!"

As we were driving home from watching it, I remarked to Bonnie that it is the sort of movie that used to come out at this time of year, that perceived 'family time' between Thanksgiving and Christmas. You could count on a colorful, animated, full-length movie, or a film with great songs about Christmas, or something that made you want to go out and do something for others, simply for the sake of doing.

But now, it seems that the movies that come out at this time of year are filled only with the color of red - as in blood, gore, violence, and over-the-top depravity. They focus on people killing, simply for the sake of killing. They devote story lines to depravity that is elevated (almost) to a lifestyle the viewer should emulate. They are filled with songs that degrade women, that exult about cruelty, that speak of unspeakable acts as if they are, or should be, everyday events in our lives.

(And often, we are told by the promoters and the reviewers, these sorts of images, these sorts of actions, are 'okay' because someone is giving an Academy Award performance, or someone has written a 'gritty' script, or a Grammy-worthy song.)

I've been thinking about the contrast in movies at this time of year because I have gotten a couple of emails concerning a film that is about to come out called The Golden Compass - a fantasy with magicians, witches, alternative worlds, etc., etc. And the emails are all about howthe movie should be boycotted (if not banned outright) because it is un-Christian, based on a trilogy by an avowed atheist. So? It is a fantasy - about a fantasy world, about polar bears that can talk, about people who can fly in the air.

Yet, there hasn't been a whisper from these folks who are so concerned over values, Christian living, families about movies like American Gangster or Hitman or any of the others of this genre.

Why is that? How can we become so concerned, so outraged, so up-in-arms over films that are simply fantasies, but not over movies that are simply disgusting?

I don't know; I don't have any answers. But as one who has seen both American Gangster and Enchanted, I know which one I will go see again, which one I will recommend to folks, which one I will buy when it is released as a DVD.

And it's not the one that stars two actors who have received Academy Awards.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Beginning in early October, we were blessedwith the gift of Patricia - a young woman fromZambia - who came as a part of the Missionto the USA program coordinated through theSynod of the Covenant. It has been some years(almost 30) since the church had participatedin the program, and so we were not sure whatto expect. Some of us had high expectations,that she would make all our problems disappearsomehow. Some had middling expectations,that she wouldn't be too much of a 'burden.'Some had low expectations, just that itwouldn't demand too much time and energyto have her with us.

I read something once that spoke of God'shopes exceeding our expectations - and that'swhat happened to us. God hoped Patriciawould come and change lives, and she did.God hoped that some of us, if not all, wouldopen our hearts, our homes, our faith to hergentle teaching, and some of us did. Godhoped that Patricia would have the confidenceand the contentment that her children andhusband and church in Zambia would be ingood hands while she was gone, and she did.God hoped that we would become just likechildren, and be nurtured and taught andblessed and loved by this Christ-like personin our midst, and when we did, we walked alittle further along the streets of the kingdomtowards home.

We were so impressed with this gentle,soft-spoken, gracious young woman whohad the courage to leave her husband, her3-year-old son,her 6-month old twins (!)behind. What incredible courage, trust,confidence, faith. All in this humble andgraceful daughter of God.

And then, she stood up and spoke, and thestrength of her faith, the power of her trustin God, her unwavering conviction that,indeed, all things (everything!) is possiblewith God, her passion for sharing the GoodNews of Jesus Christ, not just with us, butespecially with the poor, the broken, theabandoned of her country and of God'sworld came flowing out, and we were allblown away!

And then she said, 'Thank you', sat downand smiled.

I'll bet that's how people experienced thatmissionary from Galilee who was sogracious, so gentle, so soft-spoken.But when he opened his mouth, allthe power and passion of God's heartcame flowing forth and everyone wasjust blown away!

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

These are some of the descriptors the TV folks are using to describe the terrible, terrible devastation being caused in Southern California by the wildfires, aided and abetted by the extremely dry and strong Santa Ana winds.

And indeed, it almost seems to be like the language used in the Bible about the end days.

One family loses everything, the next family interviewed managed to save all that was valuable. The wind blows embers on to one house causing a fire that completely destroys that house, while neighboring houses are spared, and are still standing. People are literally fleeing for their lives, turning to sports arenas for housing, to strangers for assistance, to outsiders for help. And the scenes at night show fires burning out of control, while firefighters battle fatigue as well as flames.

Armageddon!Apocalypse!A fiery end!

But rather than some folks being left behind, people are risking their lives to make sure everyone is evacuated. Rather than armies waging war against one another, people that might not speak on the street are reaching out to one another with food, with shelter, with water, with hope. Instead of some folks mysteriously disappearing in an instant, people are appearing from all over the country to offer their gifts, their talents, their lives to others.

Maybe we are being reminded that when the end times come, they will provide the opportunity, not to pat ourselves on the back because we are Christian, but to break our backs in serving those whose lives, whose hearts, whose spirits have been broken by life.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

It's one of those things we know we should do, but which many of us have trouble practicing. It's one of those things that some folks seem to have a gift for, while others of us run to hide when asked to do it. It's probably the thing pastors are asked to do most often, and asked about most often by parishioners, strangers, children.

Prayer.

Other than commentaries on the Bible, I probably have more books on prayer than anything else. I probably have gone to more seminars on prayer than any other topic. I probably have talked about prayer with people more than any other subject. I probably spend more time working on prayers than sermons. And I still feel like a kindergartner when it comes to prayer!

I struggle with finding the time for prayer; with the place for prayer; with the words for prayer; with the proper attitude for prayer. There are times when I feel like I need to impress God with my verbal prowess, and so use the prayers of some of the great wordsmiths of the church, only to wonder, 'were they saying what I was trying to say?"

I've tried all sorts of 'postures' for prayer, from my nose pressed into the carpet, to my knees aching from wooden floors, to arms that grow weary stretched out to the heavens. There are those days when I just don't seem to have the energy, or wisdom, or belief to sustain my prayers, and I have to rely on those simple little ones I learned as a child, including, 'now I lay me down to sleep."

But I've decided I am going to keep trying, and hoping I will make it to the first grade. I will struggle with words, and trust that the Word that became flesh will whisper them into God's ear. I will try to find the time, even when I don't want to or even think I have any, and remain confident that the One who created every moment will take the time to hear my soul. I will use my body, my heart, my hands, my feet, my lips, my eyes, my spirit to bring my hopes and dreams, my fears and joys, to the One who created me out of dust and breathed the Spirit of God into me.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

You've seen the commercials on TV,I'm sure. The ones that show a cell phoneuser backed by a 'network' of folks thatnumber in the hundreds, seemingly. Themost recent one shows the networkstanding on top of a moving train,ducking and swaying as they supportthe person sitting down below. Very,very effective advertising.

Don't you wish, though, that it was thechurch that had come up with that idea?I mean, the screen shows a fellow whois going into the boss's office, knowingthat he is likely to be downsized (letgo); or a young teenager is meetingsome of the kids at her new school,after moving away from the neighborhoodwhere she had lived since birth; or awoman standing in the doctor's officeas he shows her the results of her scan,which do not show good news.

And, in every one of those scenes, theboss or the school kids or the doctorglances past the person and says,"who are they?" as the camera pans toshow Sunday school teachers, deacons,pastors, family members, strangers -and the person just smiles and says,"Oh, that's just my network. They'rewith me wherever I go and whateverI go through."

Thursday, September 20, 2007

The story is told of the man whose son complained about the terrible circumstances he was facing. The boy said he didn't know how to cope with the adversity of his life.

The father took his son into the kitchen and had him put water in three pots. He had the boy put a carrot in one, an egg in another, and coffee beans in the third. Then they put the pots on the stove, turned on the heat until the water boiled for several minutes in each pot. They then turned off the burners and, using a pair of kitchen tongs, removed the carrot and the egg from their pots, and poured the contents of the third through a strainer into a cup. The dad asked the boy what happened to each. In the first pot, the carrot had become soft; in the second, the egg had become hard, and in the third, the water had changed to coffee.

"The lesson," said the father, "is this: adversity can make you soft by weakening your resolve and sapping your strength; or adversity can make you hard, by making you bitter or mean; or you can change the water of adversity into the coffee of opportunity."

I've been trying to make coffee the last 6-8 weeks. In fact, a lot of coffee! We have had continual, repeated, aggravating, pain-in-the-kazoo, frustrating problems with our internet and email server. The technicians have been out, multiple times, and each left with assurances
that 'you won't have any more problems." And within 24 hours, we would have to call back.

I've lost emails that I thought had reached people, and not received emails folks thought I had gotten (and wondered why I had not responded). We can't maintain our website efficiently. And I finally gave up on trying to do Occasional Sightings. Indeed, my 'strength' (at least cyber-wise) has been sapped, and I border on bitterness towards the service provider, when not wanting to throw the whole system out the window!

But now, I've decided to make coffee. I am trying to do so while using a breath prayer in such moments. I use the word 'frustration' in mine right now, but you can put your own emotion in:

Breathing in, I know frustration is in me.
Breathing out, I know the feeling is unpleasant.
(after a while), Breathing in, I feel calm.
Breathing out, I can let go of the frustration.
(after a while longer) Breathing in, I am at peace.
Breathing out, I offer peace to others.

Monday, July 23, 2007

The first time I every played soccer (known, ofcourse, the world over as football) was whenI was about 34, working on the administrativestaff of a small college. For the intramural sports,the faculty and staff fielded teams to play the students.and one of the sports was soccer. I had playedAmerican football, softball, basketball, etc., foryears, but never soccer. And I absolutely fell inlove with the game! For me, it was the sport Ihad been looking for all my life. And I haveenjoyed playing it, and now watching it, eversince. In many ways, it changed my life.

And now, because of a little half-page flyerI found in "Coracle," the magazine/journal ofthe Iona Community, I find that people are usingfootball/soccer to change the lives of those whooften lead the most desperate and hopeless of lives.Starting this Sunday, July 29, teams from 48 nationswill participate in the 2007 Homeless World Cupto be held in Copenhagen, Denmark. That's right.the Homeless World Cup. Team made up offolks who live on the streets of our world.

The vision of Harald Schmied, editor of the Austrianstreet paper, Megaphon, and Mel Young, co-founderof The Big Issue Scotland, the first Homeless WorldCup in 2003 featured teams from 18 nations. Sincethen, each year has seen more players on more teamsfrom more countries gather to play for the tournament.Both UEFA and Nike have been sponsors since thevery beginning, and teams like Manchester United andReal Madrid work with the players representing Englandand Spain.

And the players? Those folks who live under our bridges,eat from garbage cans, sleep in the darkened doorstepsand alleys of our cities? Those people who, so we are told,have no motivation, no ambition, no desire to changetheir circumstances, their lives? Six months after the2006 Homeless World Cup, held in Cape Town, SouthAfrica, 92 percent of the players say they have a newmotivation for life. 73% say their lives have changedfor the better. 39% have chosen to pursue education.(www.homelessworldcup.org)

We spend a lot of time, money, and energy with all ourcommittees, commissions, and task forces trying to 'solvethe problem' of homelessness. Maybe all one needs, tomake a start, is to get a round ball that folks can kickinto a net to get back on their feet.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

On October 4, 1957, when the Soviet Union sent Sputnik, the first artificial satellite, into space, folks here in the States went bonkers. Suddenly, we were "behind." Suddenly, we discovered a science "gap." Suddenly, the German rocket scientists from World War II, which we had 'recruited' (Werner Von Braun and others) were not as smart, as skilled, as wonderful as their counterparts who had been 'recruited' by the Soviets (that, or they had not smuggled out the right information!)

As I kid, I wondered what all the fuss was about. Why was everyone so worried? After all, we had Mr. Wizard on our side!

Starting in 1951, Mr. Wizard began broadcasting his show, a show that immediately became one of the most popular for kids. Sitting on the floor, in front of 7 and 9-inch television screens (shown in black-and-white, of course), Mr. Wizard looked - and was - larger than life.

Why? Because he had the incredible gift of being able to explain, in terms a child could understand and using 'equipment' we could find in our house, the science behind the things that surrounded us. For instance, one time he showed how to take a glass in your hand, fill it to the brim with water, and then cover the opening completely with a playing card. You then took your other hand, placed it on top of the playing card. "What is holding the card to the glass? Your hand." Then, still holding your hand tight on top of the card, you flipped the glass and card, so the hand holding the card was on the bottom. Now, you removed your bottom hand and, wonder of wonders(!), the card still held to the glass. "What is holding the card to the glass now? Air pressure." Simple, fun, easy.

No wonder that by 1955, there were more than 5000 Mr. Wizard clubs in America. No wonder so many chemistry sets were sold to kids. No wonder we grew up believing that we could indeed build rockets that would launch into space. No wonder we believed, without a doubt, that we could put a human being on the moon. No wonder we believed that all those 'fictional' marvels we read about in sci-fi books just might come true. Thanks to Mr. Wizard, we could dream, we could believe, we could dare, we could.

Don Herbert, Mr. Wizard, died yesterday at the wonderful age of 89.

And all of us scientists, and wannabes; all of us who stunk up the basement with our chemicals, and drove the cat into hiding with our experiments; all of us who burned off our eyebrows making "rocket fuel" and messed up the carpet when we didn't have the playing card on the glass of water just right; all of us who looked to the stars and dreamed, and still do . . .

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

(Here, in my part of the States, a group has opened a museum promoting creationism, that God literally created everything in six days, and that the earth is only some 6,000 years old.)

I've been thinking about Ed the last few days. Ed was a high school classmate, who attended the same church as I did. We came to be friends during Sunday School, youth group, trips to Montreat Conference Center in the summers, and in classes we took together.

We were in high school in a time (early 60's) and a place (south Alabama), where the debate over creation vs. evolution was still alive. After all, there were folks around who had lived through the Scopes trial in Tennessee, and who believed the fight for the 'good name' of God the Creator still needed to be waged. And so, especially in the year when we took biology in high school, the debate over God vs. Darwin would pop up in youth group or Sunday School.

In particular Ed, who was fascinated by science, was troubled by the seemingly conflicting beliefs. He could see with his own eyes, in class, the wonder of creation, but also the evolutionary changes which had taken place in the world. In many ways, it was a real crisis of faith for him, as to which view was right. For it was made very clear to us, in a number of ways, that a choice had to be made.

Then one Sunday evening, Ed came to youth group all excited. He sat down at the table where I was, and told of his discovery. In looking at various materials in the library, he had found that vestigial remains of legs had been found in snakes - that at some point in its evolutionary development, snakes had walked. Science had confirmed that account in Genesis (3:14) where God told the serpent that it would move on its belly from that point on.

I'll never forget the look of pure joy on Ed's face. It was no longer an either/or situation. He could believe that God had created everything, and continue to learn from the science that taught him the intricate marvels of that creation. He could believe that God spoke a Word and the mountains were created, and he could believe the geological studies that showed how the mountains were formed. He could trust in the words of the Bible, and he could trust the work of Mendel, of Darwin, of Newton. He could be a theologian as well as a scientist. He could be a person of mystery as well as a person of reason.

I've been thinking of Ed the last few days, and all the women and men like him I have been privileged to know over the years. Those who give thanks for the God who created everything, and who give thanks for the God who continues to teach us, through science, the wonders and intricacies of that good and evolving gift.

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

In the fifth grade, if we were done withour class work, we were allowed to raiseour hand, to get permission from the teacherto go to the library to get a book. BecauseI loved to read, I would race through thework. Tired of my constant handwaving,Mr. Grasso finally told me one morning,"When you are done with your work, youmay quietly leave the room to go to thelibrary. You don't have to raise your handany more."

In the 10th grade, my American Historyteacher, Mrs. Mozingo, asked me to stayafter class one day. She simply said to me,"I see that you are bored in this class. Hereare some books I think you should read.We can talk about them after school."

In my senior year at high school, Mr. Everett,my homeroom teacher, wrote in the yearbook,"To Thom, who can become whoever he wants,if he only would believe in himself."

In college, Fred White, Ken Keeton, AshbyJohnson, Sheila Johnston, Billy Wireman,and so many more, played roles in my lifethat, back then, I did not see. They weremy mentors, my nudgers, my supporters,my critics. They were my professors andmy friends.

In seminary, Wellford Hobbie, BettyAchetemeier, Doug Ottati, Bernice Pace,Robert Carlson, and others lived outthe faith taught in the classrooms. In thehallways, on the quad, in a hospital room,around a lunch table, they did their bestto help us understand that ministry wasmore than just an academic endeavor.

It's Teacher Appreciation Week in theseparts, and I give thanks to God for allthese people, and so many more.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

It was twenty years ago today, April 29, 2007, that Teddy came to live with us. We went from no experience with a baby to parents of an active 18-month-old, blonde, curly-haired whirlwind. (To see pictures of Teddy and me at that age is rather disconcerting! We could be twins). I still remember the first time I took him out in the stroller on my day off. We went to the mall, had lunch, went shopping - at which time I glanced at a gift on a counter for Bonnie (it could not have been more than 30 seconds, I swear!), and when I looked down at the stroller, he was gone! Off to find something, somewhere, going on an adventure.

It was the first clue that life would never be the same.

And as most of you know by now, life with Teddy has never been the "same" in so many ways. One of our complaints to God over the years has been that we have never really known what 'normal' families do. While I recognize that every child, every family, every situation is different - we have lived a rather unusual life with Teddy, to say the least.

Multiple visits and stays in the psychiatric wings of Children's Hospital beginning at age 7; at least nine of the last 14 years if not more, having Teddy live in a residential facility, usually entailing a 2-hour drive each way to visit him once a week; his always needing to be sedated for even minor medical procedures; struggles with school systems, mental care systems, medical systems, even having to sue our denominational major medical provider.

And, if all these 'normal' aspects of our rather abnormal life were not enough, Teddy then got to battle Stage 4 germ cell cancer beginning in September 2003, enduring six rounds of chemotherapy (each lasting 5 days) and two major surgeries. Then, we had the experience last year of his being accused of murdering his roommate at a residential facility, a charge which the media continues to bring up every time the facility is mentioned in the paper, even though the charges were dismissed when Teddy was found to be incompetent of standing trial.

So after 20 years, we look back and see years of unbearable heartache and loss. Bonnie and I have both endured what our counselor calls 'chronic grief' knowing that our son would never be the person we hoped he would be, or that he dreamed he would be. He would never go to college, or get married, or have a family, even though he is perhaps the most caring and loving individual I have ever met. We have more gray hair and wrinkles than we ever imagined we would have at our age, and we have not been able to do the things we had talked about or dreamed about for our life together as husband and wife. We have had what I would consider two real vacations in the last 20 years. And we have accumulated a mountain of indebtedness that approaches Mt. Everest.

But we have also had more joy in our life than we ever imagined, all because of this happy, struggling, ever-inquisitive, always-imaginative gift from God. We have met angels that we would have overlooked without Teddy being a part of our lives, especially those folks who will spend their working lives devoted to folks just like him. We have seen God's grace come in the most unexpected moments, and felt God's love embrace us in the most broken people imaginable. We have seen Christ's face every time we look at Teddy, have heard God's voice in every broken word he has struggled to speak; and feel the warm breath of the Spirit every time he kisses us good-bye when we have to leave him at the residential placement.

We have done things we would never have dared, gone places we would never have thought of, met people we would never have wanted to meet all because of Teddy's lived-out belief (which he could never put into words) that everyone is indeed his neighbor, that every moment is a gift from God, that every place is holy ground.

It is because of Teddy that I have a better appreciation of the act of great love and sheer foolhardiness on God's part in adopting each and every one of us as children of the kingdom. It's because of Teddy that I have a clearer view of what it cost Jesus to be willing to become one of those the world would ignore and eventually put away because he was different. It's because of Teddy that I have no doubt whatsoever that the Spirit continues to move and work and be so powerfully and peacefully in our lives.

It was twenty years ago today that Teddy came into our lives.

And despite the wrenching, painful, heart-breaking, rip-the-guts-right-out-of-you times, I would not have missed a moment of the last twenty years.

Thursday, April 05, 2007

We're gathering this Holy Thursday, toremember and to celebrate that sacred mealwhich Jesus has given to us. But there is alsosomething else he gave us that night, accordingto John's gospel - a job.

That's why we are doing a foot-washing ritualas part of our Holy Thursday service. Thiswill be the first time this has been done inquite a while, so I am sure there is anxietyon everyone's part, including mine. Partof it has to do with the fact we will be askedto 'expose' a part of our bodies which isnormally not seen in public, except on thebeach or at the pool in the summer.

The other has to do, I think, with the factthat we are doing something that has no'reality' in our lives. Oh, we've washed ababy's feet or our kids' feet when they arein the bath; we wash the mud of the pawsof our dogs; and, if we are athletic, weknow to take good care of our feet.

In Jesus' day, and in the life of the early church,people were accustomed to having their feetwashed, on a regular basis. Traveling overdirt (and dusty) roads; slogging through themud in a downpour; using your feet as themeans of getting anywhere back then, meantthat when you arrived at your destination,you needed to have your feet cleaned. Especiallywhen you went into another's home, andparticularly when you had come for a meal.Just as parents' tell their kids, 'Go wash yourhands for supper,' back then it was to makesure your feet were cleaned before you ate.

Of course, since the job was done by a servant,folks rarely took note of it being done to themand for them, by another human being. It wasjust a ritual, performed by someone who wasalways overlooked, just as the basin of waterand the towel probably were. Just anotherpart of the background to their lives.

We have those 'backgrounds' around us today.We have those people who perform a servicefor us, and we usually overlook them, don't we?The housekeeper who comes in and takes careof the hotel room we live in for a few days.The custodian who goes through the churcheach night, emptying the waste cans, moppingthe floors, cleaning our fingerprints off theglass doors. The crossing guard who stands outin every sort of weather, making sure our kidsget to school safely. The garbage collectorswho come by and pick up our trash beforewe are even out of bed in the morning.

The disciples were shocked that Jesus would bewilling to do such a menial, degrading, disgustingtask as washing their feet. Just as we would be ifJesus showed up to make our beds, clean our toilets,empty our waste cans, dump our garbage.

Just as we would be if Jesus asked us to dosuch menial, degrading, disgusting tasksfor someone else.

That's why we need to remember that HolyThursday is not just about sharing a sacred meal,but about becoming a servant.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Recently, in a reputable journal with the name'Christian' on it, I read an article about a newsort of church - the 'submergent church' - whereno one knew where the folks met, you couldattend by-invitation only, and the pastor waspaid (full-time) to watch TV, go to movies,read, be immersed in the culture. (After all,what pastor wouldn't like that job description?)And for the laity, the service lasted only15 minutes. It was such a great story that Itold other ministers, and some layfolks, about it.

Maybe it was because it sounded so enticing.Maybe it was because I am at the point oftotal confusion with all the 'labels' aboutnew and different ways of being the church.Maybe it was because I read it on a day whenministry seemed pretty dry and discouraging.Maybe it was because it was in a magazineI have come to respect and look forward toreading. Maybe it was simply because it wasin print and therefore must be true. But Ifell for it - hook, line and sinker - and 'they'reeled me into their (later admitted to) hoax!

Of course, it probably had a lot to do becauseI can give in so easily to the notion that thereare 'new and improved' ways of being the church,when it still continues to be the struggle andchore it has been since Day One. I can buy intothe idea that there are well-paved and well-lightedroads to the kingdom, when there are still all thosepotholes caused by my pride, and those shadowedstretches due to my stubbornness. I can wantto keep Jesus in a nice, safe, locked box wherehe can only get out and mess with my life whenI let him.

But when I do that, I am only hoodwinking myself,because Jesus won't be tricked into becoming ahoax for my life, or anyone else's.

Thursday, February 22, 2007

Though it happens every year, I am stillsurprised by how exhausted I feel - physicallyand emotionally - the day after our AshWednesday service.

Part of it may have to do with the fact thatthe service itself is so different - more somber,more silent, more reflective than the usualSunday morning service. It takes more effortto create a 'mood' that seems so strange inour culture, even in church! After all, to speakthe words, "You are dust and to dust you shallreturn" is an extremely radical statement in aworld which worships youth, vitality, anddoing everything we can do to put off death.

I also find it a very moving, and draining,experience to take the ashes and impose thesign of the cross upon the people who comeforward for this ancient rite. Whether it isa member of my own family, a little child whoprobably never thinks of death, or the elderlyperson whose funeral I may be doing in thenext few months, this very simple act changesour relationship as pastor and as parishioner.I see this in the tears which well up in their eyes,and in the questions on their faces, and in thepiercing of my heart.

And because we have these emotions, thesequestions, these hearts, we conclude the servicewith the Lord's Supper. We do it, yes, becauseour tradition 'allows' it to take place. But more,we do it because we know that as we follow Jesusduring these days of Lent and beyond, we know that,like him, we are walking towards our death and sowe need the nourishment of that Bread which willstrengthen us in the days to come. We do it becausewe need that cup of Grace to fill us when thetemptations of the world empty our souls.

And we do it because the Table is that visiblereminder that when we do return to dust, wewill not be swept out the door, but will be welcomedinto God's embracing love.

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Tonight (finally!) the Super Bowl will takeplace. That annual extravaganza dedicatedto the worship of everything that is 'over thetop.' Advertisers will pay approximately$100,000 per second for TV spots; everycelebrity who is alive (and not in rehab) willbe in Miami for the parties; more pizza, morewings, more nachos and cheese; more beerwill be consumed than on any other day ofthe year (and, yes, there will be a footballgame, according to the media).

Those who could not afford the plane tickets,the rooms, the game costs, will gather aroundas-wide-a-screen-HDifpossible-TV, for theirown parties, hoopla, contests, and half-timeantics.

Also tonight, in many parts of the USA,including the two hometowns of the teamsin the Super Bowl, temperatures will plungewell below 0 degrees F. Winds in many ofthese areas will cause temps to feel in the-30s and -40s. Emergency shelters for thehomeless will open, but if they are like theones in Cincinnati, they will not open until10 p.m. (what do folks do until then since itwill get dark just about the time the SuperBowl begins at 6 p.m. and the temps will plungerapidly?) and, like most communities, there willnot be enough spaces for the numbers of peoplewho need a warm place to get out of the freezingweather.

And, today, in at least half a dozen cities in theUSA, with more considering such ordinances,giving food (a sandwich, a cup of coffee, aa piece of fruit, anything edible) to a homelessperson is now a criminal act. In at leastone community, churches and other religiousgroups, cannot give out meals to the homelessWITHOUT the approval of the elected officials!

That's why today, when the Super OverindulgenceBowl will be played, and many of us will overeatin warm homes, while others shiver with cold andhunger, young people in this church, and churchesthroughout the country, will be celebrating theSouper Bowl of Caring. Our kids will be standingat the bottom of the steps leading out of church,asking folks to throw money into the soup potsthey will be holding, money which will go to thelocal soup kitchen we support and work with thatcontinues to feed hundreds of people each andevery day.

When the final whistle is blown and the winneris known tonight, there will still be homelessmen, women, and children. When the announcerasks the MVP where he is going (which is alwaysDisney World), there will still be folks standingin the frigid wind in Chicago and Indianapolisand elsewhere, hoping against hope there willbe a warm bed left for them tonight. When thegarbage which could feed thousands is collectedafter the parties and the games, there will still befamilies who will go hungry tonight.